See You in Another Life
by HiM'e'iTSu
Summary: They keep meeting again and again, dozens of times. But is it reality or a dream?  Arthur/Eames


**Summary:** They keep meeting again and again, dozens of times. But is it reality or a dream?

**Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me.

**Beta:** OneWhoSitsWithTheTurtles. And I'd like to specially thank her for help with medical terminology.

* * *

_**See You in Another Life**_

~ 1 ~

Arthur first noticed him in a crowded railway station in Mombasa. He had just gotten off the train and out into the burning sun, his thankfully not so expensive suit covered in red dirt, hair falling into his eyes with every blow of a warm wind. The Point Man looked around, studying the natives scurrying around, when his eyes fell on a European man, relaxed and leaning on a nearby pillar, probably waiting for someone. Quickly, brown eyes scanned the stranger and after a moment a man's gaze turned to Arthur as if sensing that he had been watched. The Point Man held his gaze until he noticed a smirk forming on the man's full lips, then he turned away and proceeded on his way out of the railway station. Putting thoughts of the stranger in the back of his mind to analyze later, Arthur took out his phone and, while trying to contact Dom, caught a taxi. Busy with explanations of his whereabouts to his friend, Arthur instructed the driver to take him to his hotel.

The Point Man noticed this man again in the evening of the same day, which should not have actually surprised him since it was the most popular European hotel in Mombasa. Arthur was having dinner in the hotel restaurant while the stranger that attracted his attention was sitting behind the bar, sipping his drink and throwing occasional comments to the barman, making him laugh. From the man's appearance and the way he held himself, over-confident, Arthur though that it wasn't jokes that drove other people to him but his special charm. If he wasn't in Mombasa on a job, the Point Man might have considered experiencing these charms himself. As it appeared later, he didn't have much choice on the matter, as after five minutes this man, Eames as he introduced himself, sat at the table across from Arthur and started a dialogue with what was probably the worst pick-up line Arthur had ever heard. Nonetheless, they spent the evening bantering lightly and talking about exotic countries they've got a pleasure to see; not surprisingly, Eames's list was much longer.

They parted ways in the hallway of the hotel with a promise to meet again. It was a start.

The continuation was in Britain, beginning with Arthur finding Eames's flat and appearing on his doorstep uninvited, but Eames did not complain. With the help of multiple posh restaurants and hotels their relationship evolved rapidly. After a month with the other man, Arthur came to a point where he could not distinguish if it still was just an affair or something with more meaning. There was one thing he was sure of though: he didn't want it to end.

~ 2 ~

Arthur first saw Eames on a busy Paris street. Eames didn't see him. The Forger was conversing with Dom, the Extractor trying to talk him into joining the team on a new job. It would also be the first time they've ever needed a Forger in a dreamspace; they were not sure of all the pros and cons of hiring one but it seemed like a perfect way to get to their new mark. Arthur was watching the two men interact, trying to look like an ordinary tourist but not putting much effort into it; he was going to join them as soon as Dom gave a sign that the Forger had agreed to their terms.

After a couple of minutes the Point Man noticed Dom glancing in his direction and nodding both to Arthur and to what Eames was saying. Taking his cue, Arthur moved across the street and approached them.

"Dom. Mr. Eames." He acknowledged the two men with a slight nod.

"Hello," the Forger replied, prolonging the 'e' and making a simple word sound like something highly inappropriate.

What happened next is not important, except for the moment when Eames approached him after the job was done and they were standing in the middle of a warehouse, things packed and sent to a hotel in a nearby town and the men themselves ready to follow them. Their Architect had left earlier that evening, heading straight to the airport, and Dom went to see Miles to give him presents for the children.

"How about a drink, darling?" Eames turned to him with a smirk.

Arthur couldn't recall the exact moment in time when he became referred to as 'Darling' but he was tired of complaining and maybe, just maybe, just a teensy little bit he started to like it. He looked at the Forger, narrowed his eyes in suspicion for a second and then shrugged.

"I can't see why not." He replied. "But I don't know Paris very well."

"Don't worry. I do," and Eames opened big iron doors of the warehouse for Arthur and they went outside to the warm spring sunlight.

Arthur found it hard to believe that Eames, who didn't know a word of French, would know the city better that the Point Man who spent a few evenings studying it. But he was proved wrong, though unlike in the most cases it was surprising and pleasant. They settled in a small and cozy bar, with only a few other clients and a bored barman.

"How did you become a Forger?" Arthur asked, but did not push, giving Eames a chance not to answer.

"Just, you know…" The man waved his hand in a vague gesture, almost spilling some beer from a bottle in his right hand. "It was something I was good at and I mastered the skill until I became the best."

Arthur considered pointing out the Forger's over-confidence but rethought it because he knew that he really was the best in the business; they wouldn't have hired him otherwise.

"Why did you become a Point Man?" Eames asked a counter question.

"I'm good with remembering things. I'm good when it comes to dealing with information. I like to know more than others around me." The last part he added with a smirk. "I like my job."

"Likewise." Eames replied and toasted with his beer.

They talked for the rest of the night, completely forgetting about the plan to get out of the country by midday the next day. They spent three more days in France but not in Paris because they were risking enough just staying in the suburbs. When the time to separate came they stood in the airport, unsure of what to do or what to say before they went their separate ways.

"Back to the States?" Eames asked, looking at Arthur and then turning his gaze to look around the airport as the other man shifted uncomfortably.

"Yes. You?"

"I'm going back to a sizzling sun," the reply was retrieved with a good humor, which showed that the Forger actually loved the place.

"Mombasa?" Arthur asked before his brain registered the words. He actually didn't know where that came from, it just seemed…fitting.

"Yeah…" Eames looked at him strangely. "I didn't think anyone would be able to trace me back there."

And no one did. At least not Arthur. He found the latest report of the Forger's location from Dubai, that's where Dom went to get him. But Mombasa just appeared in his mind as the place Eames would love to visit.

"Well…See you." It was their goodbye. They shook hands, staying like that maybe a little too long.

"Yes, see you."

And see they did. Because there was another job in three month and then another one and another. Even when there wasn't, Arthur found a reason to invite Eames to the States.

~ 3 ~

The first time Arthur saw Eames, he didn't actually see him. He saw a picture, a picture of a criminal he had to catch. It felt unnatural – like he should be on the same side of the law as the man in the photograph, but he brushed the feeling aside. Arthur had worked in the FBI for more than four years and by this time he was used to ignoring the individualities of those he had to find and arrest.

This Eames, unfortunately they didn't manage to find his actual name, was a thief, a con-man who deceived people into believing he was a lawyer, a producer or just a poor man looking for a good friend. They all believed him, some of the victims, mostly female, refused to understand that they were robbed by him even after the police showed them undeniable proof. Arthur had to find this Eames and put him in jail for many, many years.

A thorough investigation led Arthur to Los Angeles where the last victim of Eames lived. For a movie star, Arthur decided, she was rather stupid. Her assertions that the person who fooled her and robbed her house was in fact a wonderful man only served to irritate him more, but as a professional he didn't let it show on his face or in the tone of his voice, staying calm and natural through their talk.

"I understand how you feel," which, in fact, Arthur did not. "But I can't comprehend how you can trust a man who stole your most valuable possession. Which also cost you an impressive sum of money."

"It was worth it." She replied confidently.

After that Arthur stood up and left, ordering two agents to keep an eye on her in case their mark appeared. The probability of this happening was incredibly low but Arthur wanted to be certain he wasn't leaving any chances for Eames to escape.

There was no right way to describe his surprise when he wasn't the one who found this criminal; it was in fact Eames who found Arthur.

"You are too cute for a FBI agent," said the man who sat beside Arthur on a bench in the park.

Arthur, trying to keep calm and also not to bristle at the 'cute' comment, turned slowly to look at the man. Laughing dark grey eyes stared back at him; it actually was Eames. His voiced turned out to be lower than Arthur imagined but all in all he looked just like on the photograph.

"Good evening, Mr. Eames. To what do I owe this pleasure?" He asked evenly, relaxed on the outside but ready to spring into action.

"Just wanted to see who was after me this time." Eames shrugged, leaning back and imitating Arthur's position on the bench. "I have to admit that of all the agents that tried to arrest me, you are the most attractive. You are my type."

"Does that mean I've got to actually arrest you?" Arthur asked, trying not to pay much attention to the criminal's words.

"Maybe." The man smiled flirtatiously and mischievously and leaned closer to Arthur, so that the agent had to move back a little to avoid actual physical contact.

And Arthur did catch Eames, not on that evening though. That evening the man managed to get away from him, stunning Arthur into complete shock by kissing him in a deserted alley where the chase led them. That night Arthur could not sleep, his mind clouded by confusion and curiosity. Next day he renewed the search with vigor.

Arthur caught Eames, or maybe Eames finally let himself be caught, three month later. After spending five years in prison he stopped deceiving people into giving him their money, explaining this change on having a new, more amusing hobby. Somehow, the FBI agents who knew him suspected it had something to do with irritating the hell out of Arthur. They were only partially right.

~ 7 ~

Arthur hated his job. He studied architecture in the university, thinking it to be wonderful and fascinating, but somehow ended up working as a designer of postcards. Times where difficult; he needed a job and this was the place that accepted him. After years of working in the same place Arthur was so used to it, he did not have any willpower to search for something new. That, unfortunately, didn't mean him liked the job any more.

But one day his job had actually brought something interesting into his life. Someone. A very attractive courier with a parcel for Arthur's boss. The young postcard designer, in prospect maybe some day an architect, was more than happy to show the other man around the office and to his boss's door. By the middle of a corridor leading from the lift to the door they exchanged numbers and arranged a date. The man's name was Eames.

Without a reason, Arthur proclaimed himself to actually be a happy man that day.

~ 19 ~

The first time Arthur met Eames it was when the other man came up to him.

"Someone as handsome as you shouldn't brood in the corner."

It was Ariadne's Christmas party and Arthur only agreed to come because she persuaded him it'd be much better than spending the evening alone in his flat. So far he concluded he'd never trust her on the matter like this again.

"Is that a pick up line?" He asked the man standing before him. "Because if it is, it sure is awful. You have no imagination."

The words felt wrong coming from his lips when he addressed the attractive stranger who seemed to be momentarily confused, but regained his composure quickly, doubling the brightness of his smile. Arthur thought he had a nice smile, but he was just not interested.

"I can prove to you how avant-garde my imagination could be," the man replied, adding a slight leer to his tone. "Just give me a chance to prove it, darling."

Arthur looked at him thoughtfully, trying to remember the last time someone had called him that. In his mind it felt like not long ago he heard the word falling from someone's lips, same intonations, same thick British accent, but in his memory there was no mention of such a thing. He didn't like this strange feeling of déjà-vu playing with his mind.

"Not interested," he mumbled and went away before the man had a chance to say any more.

Arthur left the party and spent the rest of the evening in the quiet of his flat with nothing to make him doubt his sanity. He never mentioned the encounter to Ariadne and soon forgot everything about the stranger.

~ 28 ~

Arthur liked Sydney. Even though ten hour flights from Los Angeles was horrendous even in first class seating, especially when you planned to stay for a couple of days and then head back, the man found the city magnificent.

It worked as a beautiful distraction from the thoughts that filled his mind through the day and plagued his dreams at night. His psychotherapist diagnosed him with a case of acute stress disorder, which was understandable when he told her that he felt like he was leading a life which, in reality, belonged to someone else. When he returned home, Arthur was sure that it was too full of unneeded objects, like it should be almost bare and lacking personal objects as if it belonged to someone who didn't stay in one place for long. Every time he opened his briefcase he was surprised with its contents even though he put the same looking documents there every day. Every little thing about his life felt unnatural.

But Sydney was good. For a change, Sydney felt _right_. And when he entered a small bookstore with the intent to buy a good novel which would help him pass the restless nights in a hotel bed, Arthur's mind was light without a burden of problems weighing it down. The owner of the shop was nice and helpful, recommending him a book that might actually hold his interest. And there, in the bookstore, Arthur met a man who also made his life right. Finally. It was not love at first sight, as Eames insisted when he first introduced himself to Arthur, but as time went on and the man left back for Los Angeles, he was not disappointed in the slightest. After all, a ten hour flight is much more entertaining when you have a charming Brit to flirt with.

~ 52 ~

The first time Arthur was mugged, he silently declared it the worst experience in his not so long life yet. It happened late in the evening when he was on his way to the Cobbs', because they insisted on him coming for dinner and he couldn't think of any excuses to refuse.

The mugging came as an unexpected and very unpleasant surprise. He didn't notice the man coming out from the dark alley he was passing, only turned his attention to him when a low voice with an obvious British accent called out something very rude to him. Then, quickly, his wallet and phone were taken by the man, whose appearance registered in his mind as a tall, bulky man with features that he, against his good will, admitted was attractive, and a knife held in his right hand.

Minutes after he was gone, Arthur still stood in the alley, frozen, staring at the spot where the man stood, murmuring under his breath that Mal would kill him for not appearing to dinner without notice, while his conscious screamed that this whole situation was _wrong_. It should never be like that, he knew it, but for the life of him he could not explain why.

~ 77 ~

"It's finally the day of our success, isn't it?" An assistant asked from his place behind the desk on Arthur's right.

"Not yet."

"But it is going to be like that. I'm sure." A young sandy haired assistant smiled as he came up to his senior's desk. The man was younger than Arthur and the researcher always wondered how someone so young ended up working on a government top secret project like this one. He knew better than to ask though.

"We have yet to meet this man who is supposed to put our research to a new level. We aren't even sure he's capable of doing so."

"But the General said the man was a genius in this!"

Arthur smiled at his assistant's optimism; he liked that feature the most. The researcher looked at the file on his desk for the tenth time that day. It was a dossier of the man whose arrival the whole base was awaiting with trepidation.

There were sounds of a commotion coming from the corridor, anxious voices of the security.

"That must be him!" The assistant exclaimed excitedly and rushed to the door. As soon as he reached it, echoes of gunshots startled Arthur and he lifted his gaze from the file in time to see the sandy haired assistant falling to the floor, a look of shock still imprinted in his features. A misshaped circle of red was blooming quickly on his chest.

Arthur stood up, opening the top drawer and reaching for a gun he knew was hidden there. He was too slow though as, in the next second, the laboratory filled with people in black uniforms pointing rifles at him. Gunfire deafened him. His lifeless body swayed and fell to the floor, bringing down with him the file he still clutched in his left hand.

A picture of a good looking man with light brown hair and dark grey eyes with a name 'Eames' written above it soaked in Arthur's blood.

~ 79 ~

Normally Arthur had quick reactions, but the week was stressful enough with organizing Mal's funeral, and making sure Dom wouldn't do anything stupid and helping him to cope, which seemed impossible at this stage in his life. He also had to take care of James and Phillipa when his friend left to inform Mal's parents of what happened personally, and in addition to all this take care of Dom's work projects so that the man would have more time to rearrange his life. Arthur thought he could be excused for his reactions to not being as sharp as always. Still, he concluded, there was no actual need for that since he was the one suffering the results.

Because really, when you are crossing a busy street and hear a car honking and people behind you gasping and screaming, it's only obvious that you are about to be hit by a car. Unfortunately Arthur could not make that conclusion quickly enough and was soon consumed by a pain in his left side. That was unpleasant, he registered calmly as though he was a mere observer.

In the next moments there were more screams, but a strong male voice prevented all the panic by a few quick loud words and a command to call the ambulance, then he rushed to Arthur's side.

"I'm sorry, so sorry. I didn't notice you." The man was saying, from which Arthur concluded he must be the driver. "The help is on its way. How bad does it hurt?"

"A little," Arthur replied, understanding that both he and the man knew it was an awful understatement. He felt a hand lift his head a little and a folded piece of cloth was laid under it. Arthur was finally able to look his almost murderer in the eye. Strangely, he didn't feel much offended by being nearly run over.

"It's going to be fine," the man reassured and Arthur was inclined to believe him, it wasn't that a bad hit after all. "No need to be afraid, darling."

"Arthur. Not darling."

"Of course," he replied, but it was obvious that Arthur's comment wasn't paid much attention to. "I'm Eames…and here comes the ambulance."

Eames followed it in his car and stayed in the hospital until the doctors convinced him that Arthur was going to be fine. Eames dropped in for a couple of times the following days and was there when Arthur was discharged.

~ 95 ~

It seemed wrong. Everything around Arthur felt unnatural: the bar top his hand rested upon, a glass of whiskey in his right, a mirror opposite from him. People around were talking but he could not hear a word they said. This whole life felt wrong.

Arthur glanced right, noticing a blond woman staring at him. She was beautiful in her tight dark grey dress that accented her curves, red lipstick attracting attention to lips any man dreamt about, her blue eyes were fixed on him. Like any other man he felt immediate attraction; it seemed only normal to come up and buy her a drink.

Arthur got up and left the bar.

~ 109 ~

This did not happen often to Arthur, but that day he was late. He had fifteen minutes to get to the main building of the lawyer agency he worked for before the meeting with Mr. Fischer started. He was a big, important client who wanted to sue a smaller company, which probably would lead to that's company's bankruptcy. Arthur, as one of the best, was responsible for this case. It was a great chance to prove himself and take another step up on the staircase of success. But right at that moment, running along a busy street because the traffic was awful and his car was useless, he felt like he was falling from that staircase, painfully hitting every step up he had made in the previous years.

The building was just around the corner and the man had his hopes up, because if he was fast enough he would probably-

"Oh, sorry, pet."

A man bumped into him, splashing his coffee all over the front of Arthur's best suit. Arthur glared at him and resumed his running, already bemoaning his fate and career and cursing his bad luck in his mind.

~ 1 ~

Eames noticed Arthur at once. A lonely figure in a fine suit standing in the middle of a large bridge, leaning on the handrail and looking down at the dark running water. He was frozen, not even a muscle on his face betraying thoughts running through his mind, his calm exterior making him resemble a statue that didn't have a life to lead, that had all the time in the world. Which he probably did, Eames thought grimly.

A cold breeze swept his hair back and made the lapels of his jacket fly haphazardly. Meaningless people hurried past him, too occupied with their own business to care for a stranger. Eames just stood on his spot at the bottom of the bridge and observed the Point Man. When he headfirst dived into a peculiar chase for him, Eames didn't think about what he'd actually do when he found him. Taking one last measuring look, he started his way up to the man.

Arthur didn't acknowledge, or maybe even didn't notice, Eames when the latter stopped by his side and glanced down at the river, as if attempting to see what the other man found so fascinating about it.

"Nice view," he mumbled, only half hoping for a reaction. "I knew you always liked Sydney, darling."

At that, the man's head turned to Eames sharply, dark brown eyes boring into him, small frown lines creasing his forehead.

"You are…"

"Eames." The Forger extended a hand for a shake but the Point Man didn't take it.

"I know," he replied instead. "How do you know about Sydney?"

"We've met here." Eames replied simply, turning his gaze from the other man back to the city before them. The proportions were a little bit wrong and some buildings were missing, but it was probably how Arthur remembered it.

Arthur looked up at the sky, thoughtful, recollecting the memories that did not belong to him.

"In a bookstore," he said with quiet confidence. Satisfied with the answer his mind came up with, he turned slightly, leaning one elbow on the handrail and looking up at Eames with a challenge.

"No," the Forger replied, letting himself smile at the baffled look of his interlocutor. "In the opera."

"What?" Arthur mumbled quietly. "But that's not right."

"Of course it is, pet." Eames answered patiently, watching closely for the next reaction. "It can't be any other way."

Arthur's gaze lowered; he stared at the grey asphalt, but could not recall, even in those strange memories of the things he knew had never happened but at the same time felt more real than his actual life, ever going to the opera, ever meeting Eames there.

"Let me help you," the Forger said gently. Arthur looked back up. "It was our first job together. Everything was so hurried that Cobb didn't have time to introduce us before the day of the Extraction. You were ready to kill me in reality because I was late for the job. Everything went well, but you _did_ wake me up with a shot to the head."

"I don't understand." The Pont Man protested weakly, taking a step separating him from Eames, brown eyes searched his face with desperation.

"You don't?" Eames asked calmly, and then he shrugged. "Maybe you don't have to. Just _remember_."

"But I do remember you. So many different versions of _you_."

"How many?" Eames asked, not able to mask his pained frown quickly enough.

"Dozens, hundreds…I can't tell any more. I lost count."

"But there is only one real me. And I'm here, with you. I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you, darling."

Arthur's hands were clutched together, fingers intertwined, gripping with so much force that his knuckles were turning white. Eames gently took them in his hands, weakening the grip, wordlessly persuading the other man to calm down. He didn't like this distressed version of the Point Man; the Arthur he knew was always in control. But, Eames thought, it was a miracle that he was still sane after spending so much time in Limbo. He lived so many different lives that he wasn't able to tell one from another anymore; they were all merging together in a one endless dream.

"Everything is going to be fine, darling." Eames whispered, more to himself than to Arthur. "I'm here to help you. To take you home."

"But I have so many homes; I can't understand which one is the _right_ one."

"I'll help you," the Forger bent his neck a little, looking Arthur straight in the eyes; mere millimeters of thin air separated them. "Just remember your one real life, not all the dozens that felt wrong."

Arthur was looking at him, straining to remember, to find one among a hundred. He concentrated on the opera comment from Eames, imagining how mad he'd be if their Forger didn't arrive in time and the whole operation would be in danger. An unintentional smile made its way onto his face.

"When you finally appeared I attacked you, because I thought you were sent by a competing team. I was appalled when Cobb told my you were our Forger."

"Hey, that's actually offensive." Despite his words, Eames smiled.

"Eames, no normal man dresses like that. Especially not to the opera."

"So you remember?"

"It's blurry, but I think I do. At least I realize that this is not real," Arthur waved with his right hand in the direction of the city.

"Good," Eames nodded. He moved forward, putting his hands on the handrail on either side of Arthur, trapping the man with his body.

"Now what?"

The Forger smirked and covered the distance separating them, kissing the Point Man gently. Arthur's hand sneaked around his neck, while Eames's hand wound around the other man.

It was wonderful, Arthur decided; the kisses he had shared with the projections of the man were nothing compared to the original. His head spun, city around them becoming out of focus until he finally decided to close his eyes, his world was slowly titling on one side as his back pressed against the handrail almost painfully and almost half of his body was bent over it, hovering over the river.

"Now we are going home," Eames whispered and pushed with more force, making Arthur fall back over the handrail, clutching to him, until they both were falling.

"Home," Arthur echoed as he opened his eyes to the real world.

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**A/N:** I've never been to any destination mentioned in the story, so I'm sorry if there are any terrible mistakes. And also I'd love to know what you think about this story;)


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